Growing up on the east side of Toronto, the Don River has been part of my life ever since I can remember. But our city’s other major river, the Humber, is largely unknown to me. So when a reader offered to take me on a guided paddle of the Humber south of Bloor St., I jumped at the chance.

The offer came from Don Scallen, a naturalist, blogger and science teacher in Brampton. A veteran paddler with years of experience on the Humber, Don normally paddles his own lightweight kayak. But with me along we would need a two-person boat.

Don booked us a small canoe from Toronto Adventures, a family-owned firm that rents canoes and kayaks and run tours from its location on the banks of the Humber beside the Old Mill Inn. The price was right — about $50 for a two-hour rental.

Last Sunday, on a perfect day, we set out on the dark, slow-moving river. We were headed south, toward the lake.

I was excited about what we might see. The company’s website said that during a two-hour tour of the Humber “we see plant and wildlife rarely seen in the city. We often see more wildlife on the Humber River than we see on our trips to Algonquin Park.”

Before we had paddled a hundred metres, Don pointed out a great egret, a large heron with stunning all-white plumage, standing motionless at the water’s edge, waiting to spear its unsuspecting prey with its needle-sharp bill.

Around a few more bends in the muddy river, past stands of invasive phragmites and purple loosestrife, Don espied a northern map turtle basking on a log. He pronounced it to be female because of its large size. Skittish, she didn’t let us get very close, sliding quickly and quietly into the water as we approached.

As we continued on our journey, I noticed a great blue heron taking off over the reeds, and Don spotted an osprey soaring gracefully overhead, scanning the river for its next meal. From our vantage point far below, this powerful predator appeared nearly all white, with a wingspan about the size of a herring gull, and a length about that of a red-tailed hawk.

The osprey was far from the only bird hunting for fish in the Humber. At a widening of the river, we saw at least one Caspian tern, easily distinguished at a distance from a common tern by its large size, deeply forked tail and its stout, bright orange-red bill.

And then there were the cormorants.

Love them or hate them, double-crested cormorants are a fact of life in our city. We saw plenty of these highly gregarious birds on our short tour. They seemed to be everywhere: flying overhead, standing on stumps in the river drying their wings, diving for fish and crustaceans, and squawking loudly in their treetop colonies.

I had never heard cormorants vocalizing before, and the cacophony made me laugh. The deep, guttural grunts coming from their colony sounded like what you might expect if barnyard pigs found out they weren’t going to be fed for a week.

In a quiet, marshy bay we came across a large group touring in small kayaks. One young woman remarked on the dragonflies just as I noticed countless common whitetails — large, strikingly patterned dragons of the skimmer family — zigzagging in front of us, hawking for mosquitoes and other flying insects.

It was a perfectly pastoral moment until two men riding enormous Sea-Doos — while yelling on their cellphones — blasted into the bay spouting jets of water and scaring the birds.

On the way back upstream, we saw many more egrets, including one perched high on a dead tree overlooking the river. Apparently used to human traffic, it remained as still as a sculpture while Don skilfully positioned our canoe for me to take its picture.

Back at Toronto Adventures’ launch site, I thanked Don for the memorable experience. The only thing I want to know now is how soon I can do it again.

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